Four for Dinner
by Abarero
Summary: He almost had to laugh at the pair across the table from them, so clearly together but trying so hard to deny it. Then again, Germany thought as Italy nudged him, perhaps dealing with Italy just jaded him to constant affection. US/UK, Germany/Italy.


**Four for Dinner**

* * *

It was probably the twentieth time Italy's stomach growled that his pitiful look at Germany finally worked.

"Ah. Well, this is a good stopping point for the night. We'll continue tomorrow," Germany's voice called down from the head of the meeting room table.

The other countries sighed in relief, chattering with one another as chairs scrapped against the floor and papers were shuffled into briefcases and bags. Most of them looked thankful that Germany had finally given the okay to go home, and a few even shot glares in his direction for not doing so sooner.

Germany didn't mind either way. Working out various Eco-Friendly policies with the other countries was important, and they hadn't run over the allotted time by _that_ much.

Italy whined next to him. "Germany…I'm starving…."

He grunted in acknowledgment, organizing piles of papers and putting them away. "I know."

"Hey-hey, America!" Italy chirped, turning to the younger country. "Since we're here, you can tell us a good place to eat!"

America blinked, still a bit groggy from napping during the last part of Germany's presentation.

"Hmm, what about McDon-"

"He'll want a place that serves pasta, you idiot," a proper British voice cut in. "Not everyone finds McDonald's to be the pinnacle of fine dining."

America glared at England and prodded him in the arm. "Hey, you seemed to like it last night when we…"

England cleared his throat, willed down a blush, and cut America off. "What about that restaurant in Little Italy?"

The younger country smiled. "That place I took you to awhile back?"

"Y-yeah. That one."

Italy beamed. "Sounds great! Right, Germany? Let's all go together!"

America grinned at that, stood, and nonchalantly placed a hand on England's shoulder. "Great idea!"

England exchanged a look with Germany; the two silently communicating with nuances of expression while America and Italy babbled beside them.

_Did we just get dragged into a double date?_ England asked with a quirk of his eyebrows.

Germany shot a resigned look at Italy, then shrugged at England. _Yeah. I believe we did._

The other country sighed and rolled his eyes. A very clear _God help us._

-------------------------------

The first thing Germany noticed was that the restaurant staff seemed to remember America and England. He wasn't sure if it was because America tended to leave an impression or just because the two of them were such a unique pair.

Even he had to admit; it was almost humorous to watch them. America always trying to casually place an arm around England or take his hand, and the older country vehemently throwing these affections off with a blush and a nervous glance at the surrounding crowds of people.

Germany, on the other hand, had Italy so tightly clinging to his side that the two appeared inseparable. He blushed a bit at the looks they were getting, but he never once tried to push Italy away.

They were seated at one of the best tables, and Italy kept excitedly talking about how various things reminded him of home. America and England picked at their menus and avoided each other's eyes. Germany nudged Italy. "Hey, you wanna order?"

His eyes lit up at this request and he grinned at the others. "Can I? Please? I promise, I'll order you the _best_ they have!"

The two exchanged a look; England setting down his menu and America following suit. "Sure. You do know the cuisine the best."

America laughed. "Yeah and I can't pronounce most of this stuff anyways."

If possible, Italy brightened even more and waved over a waiter. Speaking animatedly in Italian, he selected a dish each for America and England, then he asked a few questions before choosing a selection of three pastas for himself. He picked out a choice wine, then with a smile, he special ordered for Germany. As the waiter nodded and walked off, Italy pecked a kiss to Germany's cheek.

"I got your favorite. The waiter promised me he'd make sure they cooked it just the way you like."

"Thanks," Germany mumbled, not missing England's look of perplexity at his lack of outburst. He almost had to laugh at the pair across the table from them, so clearly together but trying so hard to deny it. Then again, Germany thought as Italy nudged him to taste a breadstick, perhaps dealing with the northern Italy just jaded him to constant affection.

"Aww, we're all out," America pouted, reaching into the now-empty bread basket.

England paused moments before placing a breadstick into his mouth. "Oh. Y-You want this?"

America fidgeted with a napkin as England held it out to him. It was obvious he was torn between grabbing it and letting the other country keep it.

With a blush and a cough, he mumbled, "Nah. You have it."

"Really?" England asked, obviously a bit touched.

Of course, America had to go and ruin it. "Yeah. It's so rare for you to get to eat bread that isn't as hard as a rock. You enjoy it."

"The inside of those rolls were fine!" He shouted as his thick eyebrows narrowed. "You said so yourself!"

"After I _sawed_ through the outside with a _steak knife_."

"Fine! Next time I won't make you rolls with your meal!"

"Fine! One less thing to _choke_ on!"

They both huffed, turning away from one another. Italy looked crestfallen and turned to Germany as if this was yet another thing Germany could fix. He sighed, reached across the table, and broke the waylaid breadstick in two.

"There's plenty to share. Don't make such a racket."

Sheepishly, the two took their half of the breadstick. Germany had a hunch that they weren't used to having others dine with them.

Italy tried to lighten things up by pouring everyone a fresh glass of wine and starting up a conversation with America.

"It's so cool you have a place like this in New York, America! It's like a little home away from home."

"Yeah, you should see Chinatown sometime. It's really cool too. Actually, there's lots of little places like this that immigrants built themselves to remind them of home." Looking wistful, America smiled. "It's amazing, really; the diversity crammed into such a small place like New York. I'm pretty proud of it, it's a wonderful city."

As the two continued talking, Germany noticed America take a bite of his breadstick before handing it casually to a confused England.

_Don't they realize how idiotic they're both being?_ Germany wondered. America trying to act like he could care less and being a jerk to cover it up, and England getting flustered and angry over everything; it was positively ridiculous.

With a blush, England bit into the breadstick America had given him. It was then that the country noticed Germany's slightly amused smile as he watched them. Opening his mouth to ask what the hell was so funny, England was cut off as the waiter arrived with their food.

"This looks great, Italy!" America remarked with a grin as he lifted his fork.

Italy smiled. "Wait until you taste it!"

America dug into his meal like a voracious animal, the red sauce spattering onto his mouth as he slurped down the noodles. "S-so good!"

The northern Italy beamed, turning to England. "How's yours?"

He blinked, having gotten momentarily distracted watching America inhale his food. "Oh…uh…" He picked up his fork and took a bite. "Wow! This is really good, Italy."

The exuberant country gave Germany's arm a quick squeeze. "We'll have to do this again, Germany! Yours is good too, right?"

The tall blond took another bite of his dish and nodded. "Almost as good as the one you make."

"G-Germany…you…" Tears welled in the corners of Italy's eyes as he leaned over and kissed Germany on the nose. "Awww, I'm so touched you love my cooking, Germany! I'll make you breakfast tomorrow, okay?"

England exchanged an awkward glance with America as Italy rattled off all the dishes he could make. _So casual and honest. Though I suppose America honestly did hate my bread rolls._

His eyes drifted to the younger country who had slowed in his eating for the moment.

"Make the cornetto. Those," Germany cleared his throat and nervously shifted his napkin. "Those are delicious."

Oddly, the comment about something being 'delicious' made America chance a look at England before he pointedly glanced away with a blush.

_What the hell is his problem?_ England wondered.

"H-Hey, England?" A quiet voice muttered, barely audible over Italy's excited prattle.

"W-what?"

America bit his lip. "Uh…nevermind."

England sighed. "If you've got something to say, then say it."

He looked up at him then and England had to resist rolling his eyes at the sauce smeared around his mouth. Snatching up a napkin, he reached over and dabbed it off.

"Hey!"

"It's all over your face, you slob."

"Jeez. I could get it myself," America muttered, swatting England's hand away. "I'm not a kid anymore."

England tensed at that and withdrew. "Oh yes. You have to be _independent._ Pardon me for encroaching on that _freedom_ of yours."

America blanched and the conversation between Germany and Italy fell silent. Once again, Italy looked to Germany for help; he shrugged.

As the two sulkily turned away from each other, America threw down his fork and went to rest his hand on the table. Unintentionally, he laid it right on top of England's hand.

They started at this sudden contact, both snatching their hands away and flushing.

With a huff, America rounded back towards England. "You know that's not what I meant," he hissed under his breath.

"Yeah. Well. I was just trying to be nice in the first place. Heaven forbid."

A thick silence descended over the pair and Italy jumped up. He whispered something hastily to Germany before walking around the table and tugging America to his feet.

"Hey America, come with me to thank the cooks, okay?"

He cast a fleeting glance back at the sulking Briton before obliging. "Sure."

As the two walked out of sight, England looked over to him. Germany's expression was what he would chance to define as exasperated and even pitying. It was as if he'd said aloud, "I'm not even _that_ in denial."

The shorter country sighed. "Sorry about this."

"I take it it's always like this?"

He blinked up at Germany. "Wha…uh…" He dropped his gaze to the table. "Yeah. Mostly."

"Hmm." Germany evaluated this piece of information. Sitting aside his silverware, he took a deep breath and intently looked to England.

"I know this might be out of place on my part, but have you ever tried being more uh…open with these things?"

"O-Open?"

Germany hardened his gaze. "Your feelings for him."

England gaped. Of all the countries who had offered advice, taunts or suggestions in regards to his relationship with America- having someone as stoic and seemingly emotionally repressed as Germany do so was just mortifying.

His temper flaring up, England crossed his arms. "America wouldn't appreciate it. I honestly don't even know why I put up with the idiot."

"He would," Germany replied confidently. "His actions aren't fooling anyone, except for perhaps you."

"Wha-"

Germany sighed. "England. Just show him how you feel."

"I-I do. Just…" He blushed.

"Not in public?" He surmised. England glared.

"Well, it's no one else's bloody business! The whole world doesn't need to know that we're…" He trailed off as Germany gave a quiet chuckle.

"That's just it. It's why those idiots do it. When everyone's staring and we're hating each and every bit of attention, they just start showing off. It's stupid, but it's their way of going 'Hey, this guy's with me. I love him.'" Germany cleared his throat and shifted awkwardly. He rushed out his next words. "Or something like that is how Italy explained it to me when I asked him what the hell his problem was."

England had to crack a smile at that, easily picturing Italy's confusion as to why Germany didn't immediately understand his actions.

"Well. I doubt it'll be that easy with America…"

"Just try it."

Any other questions or arguments died on England's tongue as America and Italy returned to the table. When Italy gave England an encouraging smile, he had to repress a groan of frustration. He should have known Italy had put Germany up to this. And it was even possible that he'd been dropping similar hints to America, considering the apprehensive way the blond was looking at him.

_Brilliant. We're being set up by Italy and Germany. We are pathetic._

America offered to pay the bill, flashing his patriotic-patterned credit card embellished with his 'human' name. As the quartet stood to leave, Italy looked warily to the way England and America were still avoiding each other and piped up.

"Say America, could you take us to that big square place?"

The blond started at the inquiry and looked back to where Italy had his arm linked through Germany's. "Times Square?"

"Yeah, that's it! I want to see all the pretty lights!"

Apprehensively, America turned back to the lagging fourth member of their party. "That all right with you, England?"

The other country started at his name and almost walked right into America. "Uh...yeah. Sure. It's fine."

A bit of his smile returning, America looked to Germany and Italy. "Okay! Times Square it is!"

------------------------------

"Wow, it's all so shiny!" Italy gasped as he glanced up at all the blinking lights. Germany wrapped an arm around the other country's waist, trying his best to steer him away from the hundreds of other people bustling about the square.

At the brush of the German's hand around his middle though, Italy turned away from the captivating lights and smiled up at him. "Germany..."

"What..." He glanced down to the red-haired figure pressing up against him and shyly smiling. "Oh."

Obliging to the unspoken request, he dipped his head down then and Italy's soft lips pressed up against his. Nearby, someone catcalled and Germany started to back away. But Italy had wriggled his hand behind his neck and wasn't about to let him pull away until he was done exploring his mouth with his tongue.

Beside the kissing couple, America and England exchanged a tentative look. It's not that they didn't know about the others' relationship (Italy might as well have broadcast it from the rooftops) but the ease at which they displayed their affection in a crowd of hundreds seemed to baffle the two English-speaking nations.

"So uh..."

"About earlier..."

Their sentences collided and they both stopped speaking immediately. America's hand twitched, as if he were strongly considering reaching out but was almost afraid to. England grimaced, knowing it was probably his ill-worded retort about independence that had caused that reluctance.

_England. Just show him how you feel._ The words echoed in his mind, accompanied by a very intimidating and serious looking Germany. England wasn't sure if he should feel threatened or laugh at his own predicament.

Before he could come to any decision about what he should do to "show his feelings" a passerby slammed into America and sent the taller country stumbling in England's direction.

He grabbed the other country firmly around the middle, bracing himself as best as he could given his shorter height.

"Hey watch it!" America yelled over his shoulder.

"You okay?" England asked, glancing up. It was then that he noticed just how close they now were and his face heated up.

America steadied his footing but didn't pull away, England's hands still clutched loosely around his waist as they stood face to face.

"Yeah. Um...thanks."

Beside them, they could hear Italy animatedly pointing out the billboards and the scrolling marquees to Germany. England chanced a sideways glance at the pair and caught Germany nonchalantly watching them. This was the test, he realized, and he wasn't about to lose.

Turning back to America, England tentatively tightened his grip on America's waist.

"England?"

"S-Sorry about what I said earlier," he muttered.

Wide blue eyes blinked down at him. "For…"

England looked up at him then, leaning up since these words were for America alone. "Oh come on, I wouldn't know what to do if you weren't acting like some freedom-loving insufferable git."

A smile tugged at America's lips and his cheeks pinked. "A-ah well…" He shifted slightly in England's arms, not pulling away- but if anything scooting closer as he rubbed the back of his head with his hand nervously. "Your cooking. It isn't… Well. I've had worse."

England flushed. "America…"

"W-What? That poutine crap Canada's always eating makes your stuff seem like fancy gourmet. I mean, who the hell puts cheese curds and gravy on fri--"

The last syllable of America's word was cut off as England leaned up and captured his lips in a kiss; startling the younger country into silence. Slowly, England slid his hand down from America's waist and he reached out and gripped the other country's hand and gave it a squeeze. America squeezed back as he grinned into the kiss.

Much like Germany and Italy before them, there were audible cheers and whistles from the crowd that could have been directed at them, or any of the couples in the square who had paused for a kiss. At that moment, neither England nor America really cared.

They withdrew after a moment, both blushing and clearing their throats; but they didn't pull back, choosing instead to linger close with their hands still clasped and their foreheads leaning together.

"I-It's a nice night," England stammered out. America laughed.

"You're talking about the weather?"

England glared up at him. "I can comment on the weather if I feel like it, thank you very much. Now come on, let's get out of this bloody crowd."

Strengthening his grip on America's hand, England tugged him along as they waded through the thick crowd to where Germany and Italy had drifted to. As they neared the pair, England couldn't help but notice that Germany had that slightly amused smile again.

"Can we go somewhere a bit less…crowded?" He asked.

Italy smiled and shook his head, "Germany and I are going to head home for the night. It was very nice going out with you though, so we'll have to do it again really soon!"

America, who had finally caught up with his arm, pushed through another cluster of people and grinned at the others. "Yeah, that'd be great!"

Italy and America started making plans for other places to visit and eat, neither one of them relinquishing their hold on their partner's hand as they did so. Germany took their momentary distraction to lean over and whisper to England.

"You do realize you've just made his night, don't you?"

England coughed. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

Germany gave him a knowing look. "Don't stay up too late. We do have a meeting in the morning."

Blushing and gaping, he finally managed to stammer out. "W-why would we be up late?"

Next to him, America leaned into his shoulder and said. "Oh come on, England. They know."

England glared, shoving feebly into America's side. America just laughed, turning to Italy and Germany. "Same goes for you two, okay?"

Much to England's amusement, this caused Germany to blush furiously while Italy casually chirped, "Don't worry, Germany never lets us have quickies the mornings before meetings."

America laughed again as Germany stammered an awkward "Good night" and started to walk away with Italy swinging their clasped hands back and forth between them. England shook his head, still smiling as he looked up to America.

"They're quite the pair, aren't they?"

He grinned. "Yeah. How Italy puts up with someone so grumpy and prudish though, I'll never know."

"Oh hush up! It's not like Germany has it any better putting up with someone so hyperactive and childish."

The two of them mock-glared at one another for a moment before finally caving and beginning to laugh. As they strolled away from Times Square, America tugged England closer and wrapped an arm around his waist. "So, somewhere less crowded hmm?"

England leaned his head into America's shoulder and smiled. "Yeah. Somewhere less crowded would be brilliant."

* * *


End file.
